


Glow in the Dark

by ContagiousParadise



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, M/M, Objectification, Praise, noncon, replica body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:29:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22427101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ContagiousParadise/pseuds/ContagiousParadise
Summary: Roxas' replica body will shut down on him at random and Sora misses him so much he takes advantage of that.
Relationships: Roxas/Sora (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	Glow in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> The only one who should be reading this is the devil to remind me of why I ended up in hell  
> [My twitter](https://twitter.com/ContagusParadse)

Roxas couldn’t move. This had been happening for a while now with his replica body where all of a sudden, it would just _stop._ There were never any warning signs, never any precursors to avoid. He would just stop, conscious and helpless.

“Roxas?”

Powerless.

“Hey, is it cold?”

_Vulnerable._

Sora had him naked on his back, legs spread so wide it hurt. The ceiling was lit up by glow-in-the-dark sticker stars. They made constellations you could see from Destiny Island. He could hear the hum of the gummi ship’s engine.

He’d passed out in the hallway, face first, a bruise on his cheek. Sora had been sweet enough to take him to their room. He’d been sweet enough to tend to his face. He’d been sweet enough to at least put lube on his fingers before pressing them inside of Roxas’ body.

“Are you even in there right now? I don’t feel you in my heart anymore, so you have to be right? I mean, where else would you go?” Sora asked, Roxas’ exposed body going cold in the open air of the room like a corpse.

Anywhere. He would have liked to be _anywhere_ but here, staring up at those stars as his body made wet squelching noises while Sora worked him open.

“I miss that, you know…part of me feels really empty without anyone in my heart.” Sora stopped, giving a laugh that was pitiful, sounded moments from tears. If anyone should be allowed to cry right now, it shouldn’t be Sora. That wasn’t fair.

Sora collected himself, Roxas feeling his fingers press further than just the ring of his entrance. He spread his two fingers, opening him deeper inside. He hated the implications of where this was going. Sora didn’t even bother touching him, trying to get him worked up. He just went for what he wanted.

He’d only touched his cock to press it to his hip, get it out the way. Even when he was undressing him, he did it carelessly. He’d let Roxas’ body slouch painfully forward between his own legs just so he could get a good grasp on his shirt, let his legs dangle off of the edge of the bed right where the pressure of where his knees sat would make his legs go numb.

He was being treated like a doll—but that’s what his body was anyway, wasn’t it? A heavy doll? He never got warm like Sora had or like he had when he was a Nobody. He didn’t bleed, he didn’t need to eat or sleep.

He was there to sit pretty when he wasn’t killing Heartless and Sora had found him awfully pretty.

“You know I tried…really hard to talk to you about this for a long time,” Sora mumbled softly, Roxas unable to lock his jaw, flinch, or even kick as he felt Sora press all four fingers into him. That was too many. That _hurt_.

“About us being together like this…” he continued. He pulled his fingers out, putting an absurd amount of lube on his fingers just to press them back into Roxas. He pulled his other glove off with his teeth, then tossed it over to his own bed.

“Ven was in my heart for the longest time…But he said even then, without Vanitas he still felt lonely. But sometimes he could feel Vanitas inside of him while he slept and it felt like everything was okay again.”

Ventus and Vanitas did not have a healthy relationship. Vanitas always spoke in circles about his feelings in a way Ventus could never understand. Ventus had also grown to be more selfish than everyone realized, never wanting to have to ever deal with anything agonizing. He avoided his feelings, he avoided Vanitas, so Vanitas would force himself onto Ventus at times when he couldn’t say no.

So for Sora to take advice from either of them was a terrible idea, was a painful idea. This hurt. Even with all the lube and Sora spreading his fingers inside of him, it hurt. His chest felt tight, like he couldn’t breathe. Roxas couldn’t say no. He didn’t _want_ to be like Ventus and Vanitas. He liked Sora, but he wanted to grow as his own person.

“But every time I’d try to bring it up or talk to you about it, you’d pull away. I don’t want you to pull away, Roxas.” He didn’t want to be codependent on him. He _liked_ being alone. He was liberated by the solitude—Sora wasn’t.

Sora pulled his fingers out of him, looking around for a moment before picking Roxas’ shirt up off of the floor and using it to wipe his hands clean.

How often had Sora told him he was pretty in the last month? How often had he caught him staring? How often had he offered to do his laundry and how often had some articles of clothing gone missing only to show up later once he’d asked about them? How often had Sora used his things the way he was using him?

Sora took his jacket off, tossing it over on his own bed where it met his gloves. Roxas heard him undo his belt, heard his pants hit the floor. He heard the belt hit the wall as Sora tossed his clothes over to his side of the room. He felt the bed dip on either side of him as Sora put his hands there, knee between his legs as he crawled up onto the bed.

Sora’s face overtook the view of the stars, necklace glinting in the dark.

“I miss you. Aren’t you lonely without me?” Sora asked, as if Roxas could respond. He looked so lost, so despondent. Why couldn’t he just be satisfied with Roxas being by his side, being his friend?

Sora’s shoulders slumped when Roxas didn’t answer. How _dare_ he be upset he couldn’t reply when he was taking advantage of the fact he couldn’t move at all right now.

Sora lifted his leg and propped it up on his shoulder, only for it to slip down and be caught in the crook of his elbow. He furrowed his brow, laying it back on the bed. He slid down, gone from view and Roxas stuck looking at the stars again.

Sora’s body was warm. His breath as he exhaled from pushing inside of him was warm. It _hurt_. Sora crawled back on top of him, hips pressed to Roxas’, his cock caught between them.

Sora’s face was flushed, eyes hazed over with affection. He’d seen that look halfway across the room sometimes. He’d seen it when Sora would compliment him, when he’d call him pretty. He’d seen it when he’d forgotten to get a shirt and was just out of the shower and had to go to their room to get it.

It made him uncomfortable _every single time_.

He’d always felt naked under that gaze, pried open, and left out on display. And now, here he was. On display, pried open, naked. Sora rocked into him with a groan, not taking his eyes off of Roxas.

“Doesn’t being together again feel _good_?”

The stars behind Sora’s head blurred as his eyes welled with tears.

He hated how he knew no matter what, this was going to be their new normal. If Roxas kept trying to put distance between them, Sora would just do something like this again. If Roxas got closer to Sora, he’d try to do this again. Either way, from the moment Sora set his mind on the idea, Roxas had lost.

He did miss Sora. He hated that too. He hated how during moments when he was alone, he’d feel like something was lacking. He hated how often he’d gravitate back to Sora, the center of his universe.

He hated how his body fit into his. He hated how his eyes kept catching on his necklace, how the only thing he could hear was Sora gasping and grunting as he thrust into him. He hated how he could hear his body squelching, how he could feel himself heating up from the inside because of Sora fucking him.

He _hated_ that it felt good.

He was grateful that his body at least didn’t tell Sora that. He was glad he was unresponsive, that his cock was still soft, that Sora ignored it.

“You’re so pretty, Roxas. Even like this, you’re really pretty.” Sora groaned, leaning back to look at him, to stare at all of the places his body was flush with color for appearance and reply only. He didn’t bleed, but his skin faked the concept of blood because of his conscious recognition of it.

The head of his cock was pink, sleeved in foreskin and embarrassment. His nipples were pink, soft and delicate. His face was pink, hips were pink, hole Sora kept fucking into without his consent was _pink_. He was sure if he could bleed, there would have been blood on Sora’s cock.

_It hurt._

He wanted to punch him. He hated how badly he didn’t want him to stop, how his heart felt full. He was fine with never trying to fit pieces inside of it, content with the absence. He could grow around it, adjust. Sora clearly couldn’t.

He hated how he was going to have to anticipate the next time he’d try this. He hated how he was either going to have to get his body fixed and fight him or how he was going to have to let it stay an inconvenience.

Could they make new replica bodies? Or would it not matter because it was Roxas who was broken? But Xion didn’t fall apart, Xion didn’t stop working and neither did Naminé. All three of them had been special cases, but Roxas was the only one who fell apart.

The tears that welled in his eyes fell down onto the bed sheets.

“Don’t cry, it’s okay,” Sora reassured, leaning down to lick his tears away. “It’s okay, Roxas, I’m here. You’re too pretty to cry, Roxas.” He wanted him to _shut up_.

He wanted him to _go away_. What would happen if he were to have a properly working body? Would Sora drug him the way he was sure Vanitas was drugging Ventus? Would he beat him up? Would he tie him up?

Would Sora be willing to put in the effort it would take to keep doing this? Would he stop? Roxas wanted him to stop. He really, _really_ wanted him to stop because it hurt and he couldn’t even tell him it hurt.

Sora kept going. Sora kept pressing into him, kept thrusting and groaning and moaning and having a good time with his body. Roxas had never even masturbated in it.

Sit pretty like a doll. Sit on his lap when there was no room, sit by his side, sit still, sit on his cock. He fucking _hated_ this.

Ienzo had tried to see if applying the same concepts to sleep paralysis would work for Roxas to get himself moving again. But he couldn’t start at his fingers, couldn’t focus on one thing.

The glint of Sora’s necklace, the glow-in-the-dark stars, the noises his body made, Sora’s heat nestled inside of him and carving out a home, the way he wouldn’t shut up—be it moaning or talking.

He couldn’t focus on his fingers. He couldn’t do it. He was scared. What if he could move again and he couldn’t force Sora away? What if he pinned him down? What if he had to think of Sora like he was this terrible monster who could overpower him for the rest of his life?

That wasn’t to say he wasn’t already, but it was different to sit there and take it than it was to fight it and lose. Roxas was scared of losing. It was easier to just take it, take Sora, take the pain, take the blurry view of the stars.

Maybe Vanitas didn’t drug Ventus. Maybe Ventus drugged himself to sleep because that was easier than having to fight Vanitas every time. That would make sense. That would be reasonable. He’d been asleep then after all, hadn’t he?

But Roxas was too scared of the thought of what else could happen if he was asleep. What if someone saw? What if someone got angry at Sora—he hated how his instinct was to defend him. Someone should catch him, someone should stop him! Someone should get Sora off of him, _out_ of him.

But who was he going to tell? The damn mouse? Hey your majesty, everyone’s golden boy took my body and fucked me and it felt good. Even though it felt good I didn’t agree to it, but that makes sense!

Wasn’t that him being agreeable? Even if it hurt and felt good in the same breath, didn’t that mean some part of him wanted this? He had to have done something that told Sora this would have ultimately been okay.

What had he done?

Maybe it was knowing Sora stole his clothes to jack off with and then not saying anything. Maybe it was letting Sora call him pretty. Maybe it was making a joke about how he didn’t want to sit on his lap over being serious about it. What had he done? Had it been something more subtle?

What had he done to deserve Sora grabbing at his hips so hard he was sure he’d bruise? What had he done to deserve him moaning his name in his ear, showering him in compliments?

What even was there to compliment? Maybe Sora just really loved how unresponsive he was. Maybe he loved being able to undress him. Maybe he loved the giant doll he got to play with and do whatever he wanted with. Maybe that’s why he kept complimenting him. After all, everyone had always told Sora Nobodies weren’t really people anyway.

So that made sense. Roxas had warranted this by being something that shouldn’t exist. It was impossible to hurt nothing’s feelings, after all. He wasn’t a person, he was a doll. He was pretty. He was to be played with anyway, wasn’t he?

If he tuned out too hard, if he wasn’t in his body, where else would he go? Sora had asked that, right? If Roxas checked out of his own body, wouldn’t he _really_ just be a doll then? So didn’t he owe it to himself to at least be cognizant for this?

And after all, when it came down to it, he’d always done what everyone else had asked of him. He’d never said no. He said okay with a smile most of the time even. So why would Sora think this would be any different?

Collect hearts for the Organization?

Okay! Of course!

Fight people who you considered friends?

Okay! Of course!

Go back to Sora?

Okay! Of course!

Save countless worlds?

Okay! Of course!

Fight by Sora’s side?

Okay! Of course!

Let me fuck you?

Okay! Of course!

Let me rape you?

Okay! Of course!

He never said no. But it was hard to say no if no one had asked. What an airhead he was. He over thought so much and just went with whatever wanted to avoid arguing. Of course this would have ended up like this.

It made sense.

“Roxas—ah, Roxas…! I’m gonna cum, okay?” Sora warned, the sheets under Roxas’ back wrinkled, a mess. Sora was relentless. Roxas felt his fingers twitch.

Sora leaned over him, kissing at his mouth, pressing his lips down. He groaned, pulling back, pulling out of him. He lorded his cock over him, jerking himself off to completion. He tipped his head back and groaned, cumming all over his hips, his soft cock, his pubes.

Sora ran a hand through his hair, staring at him with that hazy look Roxas hated. He kept stroking his cock like an afterthought as he stared, a smile working its way onto his face. “You’re seriously so pretty, Roxas.”

He wanted his name out of his mouth as badly as he’d wanted his cock out of him.

“I feel really good being one with you again, Roxas.” Sora leaned down, brushing his nose against his, gentle and affectionate.

“Can I do it again, one more time?” He waited for a response, Roxas didn’t give him one. He should punch him. He should run away, even if it was naked. But he was scared of Sora pinning him down, of actually telling him no just to hear too bad.

Sora’s cum was warm.

He pressed himself back inside of Roxas and Roxas had everything he could to do swallow down the scream that bubbled up into his throat. He kept his hands from clenching into fists as Sora started using him again, as he started moaning and breathing all over his body.

He wasn’t as pressed up against him this time. This time he was watching the way his own cum dripped down his hip and onto the bed sheets, the way it collected into his belly button, the way it dripped down his cock and between his legs.

“Just one more time, okay? You’re so pretty I can’t help it.”

Maybe he should let Sora pick out his clothes. Maybe he shouldn’t speak unless spoken to. Maybe he should always keep his insides wet and warm for him. That would be easier.

Thinking for himself was going to be hard now. It meant he had to think about how much he hated this. How he had to think about how Sora kept going and how his brain was going to replay this over and over until he was sick of it. It would be easier to not have to think at all, to go back to being a zombie like his first week with the Organization.

Sora moaned his name, his body rocking into the bed. Roxas wanted to light his own name on fire. Sora rocked into his body so hard he raised his hips off of the bed, spine painfully angled upward.

He wasn’t going to move even though he could. He wasn’t going to fight it. He was going to let it happen and then never talk about it ever again. Riku and Kairi probably wouldn’t even believe him. He would never be able to bring himself to tell his friends. Maybe Ventus, but maybe Ventus would just tell him to suck it up.

Sora’s cum was cold.

“Roxas…! Roxas, you’re so—”

_Pretty._

“Good! You’re so good…!” Sora praised.

Roxas wanted to peel his ears off of his head and tear out his eardrums. The bed was noisy. His body was noisy. _Sora_ was noisy.

Maybe he could strangle him in his sleep. Straddle him, sit on his lap the way he liked, choke him to death so he’d never talk again. Or maybe suffocate him with used underwear. He could wind so much duct tape around his neck that he couldn’t get it off and let him suffocate in the same smell he got off with.

Sora groaned, grabbing and squeezing at his butt.

It didn’t hurt anymore. His body had adjusted. How accommodating he was. How considerate to not be so tight it squeezed the blood out of Sora’s cock, to not strangle it in his insides. Roxas could cut it off in his sleep. That was an option too. But then wouldn’t that be too obvious?

He wondered if everyone who had a crush on Sora would be angry at him about this. How dare he not appreciate him, how dare he not enjoy this. How dare he be so selfish as to reject him when all he’s been is kind and loving. How dare he.

Sora groaned, pulling himself out of Roxas with a frustrated huff and squeezing his cock by the base. He closed his eyes, eyebrows furrowed.

He sat there like that for a minute, stopping himself. He exhaled, opening his eyes to give Roxas a brilliant smile. He climbed further up the bed, angled his cock over Roxas face, then started jacking off again.

Roxas could smell him. Roxas blinked away tears. He’d done his best not to move, to not let Sora know he _could_ move now. But he was tired. He wanted him to stop.

Sora groaned, calling his name as he came all over his face, came right in his damn eye. Roxas squeezed it shut, reaching up on reflex. He used his thumb knuckle to wipe the cum away from his eye, some of it dripping down the bridge of his nose, some of it sitting on his mouth.

“Roxas…?” Sora stared at him, cum still dripping onto his face from the head of his cock.

He didn’t respond.

“Are you mad?” His voice was soft, hesitant.

He didn’t respond. He stared at the cum on his thumb, then up to Sora.

“Can I do it again if you’re not mad?” He said he’d stop the last time. He said he’d stop. Roxas wanted him to stop now.

“Okay, of course.” He could taste his cum. He lowered his hand back down to the bed, putting himself in the exact same position he was in earlier. Being complacent was easier to deal with.

Sora gave him a wide, brilliant smile, leaning down to kiss him. Roxas didn’t kiss him back. Sora’s cum stuck to their mouths. He could taste it.

He was pretty. He was well behaved. He was a good doll for his other half, even if he was going to back to fantasizing about killing him to tune out how he fucked him.


End file.
